


as familiar as my own skin

by womanaction



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, vague timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 00:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10262180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womanaction/pseuds/womanaction
Summary: Stages of Scully imagining being with Mulder.





	

She had thought about it before, of course.

It had begun as an idle preoccupation, a though that had sometimes stolen into her working mind without permission. Ever the consummate professional, she would blush only inwardly and brush it aside. She had wanted to put her best foot forward on this assignment, which meant tolerating, critiquing, and collaborating with her new partner.

Not fantasizing about him.

During the day, she had usually been consumed in her work with little energy to devote (consciously or otherwise) to the man who was growing more familiar to her every day. At night, however, in her less-guarded moments, her typically useful brain would sometimes regurgitate those little facts about him unbidden. That faraway look when he was working on a problem; the exact rhythm of his tapping fingers; and of course, his tongue wrapped around the ubiquitous sunflower seeds.

It would be overstating the situation to suggest that she had been in the habit of dwelling on these thoughts. At the time, she was sure she had thought of the whole situation as something that would pass in time, just like her assignment and any association with Fox Mulder.

Things had quickly changed, and their relationship became very important to her. That had only made her feelings of guilt (that good old Catholic guilt) stronger when she would allow herself to imagine what it would be like. How those lips that looked so soft when pursed in thought would feel on her skin, her neck. If she’d be able to even breathe if he directed that all-consuming focus on her. She had seen his pupils dilated with a different kind of excitement and arousal – or at least, she hoped that his emotions regarding aliens and liver-eating men were different than the ones she would potentially evoke – how would it feel to see that up close, to know how much he wants her?

Not that he wanted her. Probably.

All of that was in the past, though. Then she had had to imagine, to guess what he would be like. Would he kiss down her body with that single-minded focus, or would he look into her eyes as his hands did the work? Would he undress her gently and reverently or hurriedly and passionately? How would the low tremors of his voice feel against her skin? Would he be laughing and playful, serious and romantic, unrelenting and vocal?

Now she didn’t wonder. Not that anything had passed between them – well, a lifetime’s worth of things had passed between them, but nothing of the physically intimate sort. But the other intimacy between them was such that she knew without a doubt everything he would do when it happened, just as much as most days she was sure that it was a question of “when” not “if.” She rarely thought about it the way she had before, in imagined fancies, although when she did she could swear it was as real and familiar as a recurring dream.

Instead, she waited.


End file.
